


Shattered

by Darkstar1142



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Murder, Schizophrenia, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Threats, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-05 15:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkstar1142/pseuds/Darkstar1142
Summary: I have twisted some aspects of the Creepypasta stories to fit in with the story, mostly the Proxies ones, but this is just for entertainment purposes so I don’t think any of this will be an issue. Enjoy.





	1. Nothing

I hadn’t cried once since I got the news a week ago but it was just not clicking that this could even be real, even as my mom fixed my suit of any wrinkles before me and her headed to the funeral. She was talking to tell me it was okay to cry, but I only answered that I was okay even as I could feel the slight cracking of my heart as I looked at the pictures of him and I on the walls of my room. I didn’t even look at her as we left either, my hand inside my pocket to hold my phone with a vain thought that he would text. It didn’t feel real and it shouldn’t, even as my google search of my symptoms were of denial even with how my brain seemed to be nothing but a messy swirl of noise.

“Honey?” I blinked at the sound of my mom’s voice and looked out of our van to see that we were at the funeral home. I stepped out of the van it felt like a video on Youtube that we would watch of people’s lives, one that could never be ours, especially mine. I walked past my mom, not bothering to close my door, and I started walking to the entrance with going past people who watched me going by. People inside stopped what they did as well and it took me a minute to realize they were staring at me, like I was the main event to some sick game. I grew nervous and I wanted to go home, but my legs kept going to the visitation room with a quick pace.

Everything seemed to slow when I actually got there as my gaze went immediately to the large, dark brown coffin at the end of the room; but my legs never hesitated. I was halfway there when his mom was suddenly in front of me, sobs wracking her while asking what she had done wrong to lose everyone like this all the while shaking me harshly. My mom was there in moments, pulling her off only to have me walk to the coffin at once even though I had to yank myself away when she tried to pull me to her. I faintly heard her tell me to stop, to wait for her, but I started to jog in a panic when I saw dark brown peaking over the top of the coffin. I didn’t stop until I was pressed against the edge panting and when I looked in at the person laying in it, I stopped breathing for a moment.

They say that they look like they are sleeping and he did, but also like he had been through a shredder. He had closed up cuts scattered all over his pale, almost white, skin that contrasted with the suit that matched mine perfectly which only sank my heart as we had always loved to match as much as we could. I reached out suddenly, to wake him up but when I gripped his hand I yanked myself back just as quickly at how cold and lifeless he was. I walked backwards, my brain growing louder as my heart cracked at a hard rate just like my mind was. It was impossible. This had to be impossible. Toby Rogers, my best friend since babies, was now gone forever.

I remember falling to my knees, gripping my hair as my mind became agony from all the memories of us together and the promises and secrets we shared. We were soul brothers. He understood me better than anyone, both of us understanding when the voices would scream and drive us mad just like now. My phone fell from my pocket from it vibrating with a reminder, looking through tear filled eyes I saw the picture of us with the reminder. We were planning to go on a trip to the city, to have an end of school celebration for two weeks and just be normal 18 year old boys. I could feel my heart shatter along with my mind and I don’t if I started screaming before or after I slammed my head to the floor, but everything was nothing anymore.

I, was nothing anymore.


	2. Hardest Thing of All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Funeral, what is left of him?

Everything became impossible to do after that and I found it even harder to care. 

Eating was a disaster as there were only a few nights out of the month that Toby or I didn’t eat together with it only worsening when Mom hid his chair in hopes that it would help, but the absence only made it more real. Showering was a battle as I couldn’t find a reason to care about it, only heading in after pushes from my mother. Almost every object or word made me want to scream as my mind would get so loud that it made my skull too crowded to even have a thought of my own. School was impossible, even if it was online, as homework and studying without my only classmate. We did almost every little thing together and it hurt everywhere knowing that he left me alone when we had made a promise to stick together no matter what.

It hurt having the thoughts of me not knowing how bad it had been for him to have this happen.

Faces became more and more concerned like they cared, something I also had a hard time believing as the one person in my life who truly understood what my inner demons were like was dead. The nightmares came back with a vengeance almost immediately after the funeral with the voices screaming my faults and worthlessness once I did wake up, but it only got worse when I would instinctively grab my phone. Tears would appear just as bad as that day as I would only get voicemail after voicemail of his voice, only stopping when my hands were too shaky to grip the voice enough to call again.

The days went speeding by and I could hear my parents arguing over the phone about what to do with me while my mom hid any sharp object or pill that could hurt me, wondering if I needed to go to the mental hospital again. Even with all that though, I couldn’t care as I would just stare at the photos of us together with my phone propped up at midnight with the memories of our nightly chats. Something to stay sane by complaining or just talking with someone who knows and cares.

It hurt being alone and even worse was that it hadn’t been me.


End file.
